


How Ray Ended Up The Getaway Driver OR How Ray Got A Job With The Fake AH Crew

by kayd (KayD)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: AU, Fake AH Crew AU, M/M, Nerd criminals, Raywood, fanfiction prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 12:51:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3610740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayD/pseuds/kayd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a prompt request from a thing I did on tumblr<br/>“You were chased by the cops, got in my car, and just yelled ‘Drive!’” AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Ray Ended Up The Getaway Driver OR How Ray Got A Job With The Fake AH Crew

**Author's Note:**

> Of course I went with the Fake AH Crew AU for this. Of course.  
> This Ryan is much more like Real Ryan than headcanon AU Ryan. I'm kinda diggin' the vibe.  
> Edit: I've gone back through and fixed a few things, made some minor adjustments and put everything in their proper tenses (I nearly cried when I realized I originally changed tenses part way through a paragraph.)

Honestly, Ray wasn’t sure how he got himself into this mess. It was always like this. He'd go out, just to do something stupid - get a slurpee, buy a new game, something normal - and suddenly, bam, crime and cops everywhere. 

That was kind of the downside of living in Los Santos - super convenient access to an asston of weed, the worst police drug task force in the history of all time, everything within walking distance of his super cheap apartment, but there is ALWAYS crime. Literally always. Go out to smoke a joint? Bam, someone is on a killing spree, running over stupid people j-walking on the street outside your house. Want to buy groceries? Too damn bad, the store is on lockdown, because some idiot decides to hold up the register at 2 in the afternoon.

He just wanted a Snickers. That was all. He just wanted to be able to go out, buy a Snickers, and go home to his bong and his Xbox. But no. He gets to the gas station only to have some asshole in a skull mask jump into the passenger seat of his bifta, holding a bag of what Ray could only assume was stolen money, the guy shouting for him to drive as cops screech around the corner, sirens blaring.

“GO GO GO GO!” the freak in the mask shouts as he pulls a missile launcher out of seemingly nowhere and lines it up over his shoulder at the cops.

“Fucking Christ, alright!” Ray slams the gas and rips out of the gas station parking lot and onto the back roads. 

“Just get to an underpass or a tunnel or something! They stop chasing you the second you’re out of reach,” Skull Mask shouts, firing the missile behind them with a concussive bang that shakes the whole car. He narrowly misses that cops, who swerve into each other to avoid the blast, “Shit, okay, that should slow them down.”

He slides back into his seat, throwing the launcher into the back, and buckling his seat belt. He turns to Ray at this point and clears his throat.

“Uh hi. Sorry about that. Didn’t really have an escape route planned."

Ray just shakes his head and gapes at the road, his heart pounding in his ears as he weaves through traffic, doing his damnedest to out maneuver the still shrieking line of cop cars and their many bullets. He gathers himself and responds carefully.

“Okay. This is fun and all, but I’m gonna need some clarification here. Who the fuck are you, what’s up with that creepy mask, why are you in my car, and what could you have possibly gotten out of robbing a rundown gas station?”

“Well,” the guy leans back in his seat and keeps his eyes locked on the rear view mirror, watching the cops tremendously fuck up following them, “I’m not going to tell you who I am, that would defeat the purpose of the mask. Your car had no doors and you were already at the wheel, so it was the fastest option. And the gas station wasn’t my idea, the guy who runs our crew let one of our new recruits plan a job and it was to rob a stupid fucking gas station.”

"Crew? What crew? Listen, man, I didn't sign up for some gang vs cops bullshit," Ray tightens his grip on the steering wheel as he shoots the guy another glance. The masked man scoffs.

"Fake AH Crew, and you didn't really sign up either way, did you?"

Ray’s eyebrows shot up into his hair line as his heart froze in his chest. Fake AH Crew being one of the most notorious gang in Los Santos, they had the highest kill count of the decade and were all number one of the LSPD Most Wanted List. Ray knows enough from late night news bulletins and emergency radio broadcasts to figure out just who is in his car and it isn't good news even considering the scenario as a whole.

There's only one person in the Crew credited for wearing a mask on every heist. The media says his gang name was Vagabond, but the people all over the internet know him as the Mad King, best assassin of the city. Ray wills himself not to shake, and regrips the wheel, clearing his throat against the sudden dryness of terror.

“If you’re in Fake AH Crew, I guess with the mask, that makes you the Mad King? Quick question; when we get wherever it is we’re going, are you gonna kill me? Please say no. I’m like 2 achievements away from 100% completion of Halo 5.”

The Mad King - because that really had to be who that was - laughs as he reaches up and pulls off his mask. Ray catches sight of him, out of the corner of his eye, the mess of face paint that covers the man’s face and the slick ponytail that hangs down past his shoulders. His laugh is startlingly way too attractive for someone who could kill Ray with one hand.

“Yeah, that’s what they call me. And no, I wasn’t gonna kill you - I’m on a murder break. You can call me Ryan, though. Pull into this tunnel up here and take the first right into the parking garage.”

Ray pushes hard through three lanes of traffic, slams the brakes, and drifts into the parking garage like a pro. Ryan points to a small crevice in the wall to the left of the entrance, large enough to fit the bifta. Ray pulls around, backs in and they sit in silence, Ray holding his breath as the sirens roar past the garage and down the tunnel. Ryan chuckles quietly as they fade into the distance.

“Thank god for dumb cops,” he turns to face Ray fully for the first time since he got in the car, giving him the once over. Ray tries hard not to shit his pants in fear - this guy’s reputation is not a nice one.

“Relax, bud, I’m not gonna kill you. Cross my heart. I still need to get home, don’t I?” he grins and waggles an eyebrow at him, “What’s your name, kid?”

“Uh, I’m Ray,” Ray tries to look anywhere, but at Ryan, but the space they're in is small and Ryan is leaning pretty close to him and holy shit, why is his voice hot. He turns and finally makes eye contact with the notorious serial killer sitting in his car.

The face paint smeared across Ryan’s face makes him look like fucking crazy person - though, that obviously can’t be far from the truth, considering - but his eyes are shining and hypnotic and the smug grin he has on is far more charming than it ought to be when it's painted black and white. Ray can feel his face heat up and thanks the unholy forces that his tan skin never shows when he's blushing. Ryan’s grin grows, as though he knows anyway.

“You’re pretty good at the wheel. You any good with a gun?” Ryan asks, leaning in closer still, studying Ray with sharp eyes. Ray gulps and nods slightly. “Lot of experience with a sniper rifle?”

“I mean, I’ve shot targets from the roof of my apartment building for fun and I’ve messed around at gun ranges before. I’d say I’m decent,” Ray admits. It's useful to know how to handle guns if you’re gonna live in a city like Los Santos.

“Want to try an exciting career in crime? You’ll make a lot of money, get to create some real mayhem, flexible hours, tons of… benefits,” Ryan waggles his eyebrow again and again, gives Ray the once over. Holy fuck.

“Uh, can you do that? I thought you had a boss, or whatever,” Ray twitches in his seat and breaks eye contact, running a hand through his hair nervously.

“Eh. He’s just as scared of me as anyone else. Plus, Michael got to keep Gavin and that kid is nothing, but fuck ups. I want someone who can actually help us survive.”

Ray thinks about it for a minute and the silence that fills their little hole is tense. Gangs are dangerous. You hear about people dying in gun fights with cops all the time. Then again, The Fake AH Crew had been running their syndicate for over a year and none of them have died - at least not according to the LSPD Facebook page.

Money, power, no day job, free will to cause mayhem, plus the bonus of new friends and maybe something a little more with this guy? Fuck it, Ray isn’t doing anything else with his life.

“You know what? Sure. Yolo, right?”

Ryan laughs again, this rich enchanting laugh that makes Ray feel a tingle run over his skin.

“Yeah, Yolo. Uh, I should warn you. There’s an initiation, Michael might try to shoot you, Gavin will definitely try to shoot you - don’t worry, he’s shit with a gun, and I’m gonna need something out of you before we go.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Ray turns to look at Ryan just as Ryan surges toward him, his fingers sliding into Ray’s thick black puff of hair, lips falling hard against Ray’s. He smells like oil based face paint and hair gel and gun powder and it's surprisingly awesome. 

Ray lets himself melt into, pushing into the kiss with an intense amount of interest, lips moving smoothly over Ryan’s, leaving Ryan with the window of opportunity to deepen it. Ryan takes the opportunity with force, pulling Ray toward him, stretching the seat belt tight across Ray’s chest, making him see dots as he runs out of air. They hold the lip lock long enough that Ray starts to feel dizzy and they only let go when Ray taps out on Ryan’s thigh. They sit back gasping for air and staring at each other. Ray’s mouth hangs open as he sucks in air and Ryan lets out a bark of laughter, losing it and doubling over, gripping his stomach. Ray glares at him until he catches sight of his face in the mirror. 

He has face paint smeared all over his chin, cheeks, and lips. He looks like a fucking Rorschach test. He uses his sleeves to wipe the paint off and only realizes the mistake he's made after all the paint is gone. He looks down at his ruined sleeves with a broken sigh, at which Ryan only laughs harder.

“This is never gonna wash out, is it?”

“Nope, but man, wasn’t it worth it.”

Ray let himself laugh in response, a dry laugh, that made Ryan wrinkle his nose and smile.

“Alright,” Ryan said, with a finality, “Let’s go. Turn right into the tunnel and hit the gas, I know somewhere we can steal you a new one - a better one.”

Ray feels a rush of adrenaline as he hits the acceleration and they race off down the highway toward his new life of violence, crime, and wild adventure. He takes one last look at Ryan, at his now soft smile, at his still shining eyes, at the mask in his hand and the smear of his face paint and relaxes into the rush. 


End file.
